


For the Glory (And Love)

by FlamboyantProblematic



Series: Rugby AU [1]
Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F, M/M, Second Person, everyone is happy, or are they?, with yours truly as the narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantProblematic/pseuds/FlamboyantProblematic
Summary: "The boring cop of AUs where Titus and Glen are just regular every day rugby players. Everything is okay and everyone is happy" - GaithFor everyone in this fanbase. For the people who supported me from the start and continue to do so.
Relationships: Glen/Titus Hardie, Harry Du Bois/Jean Vicquemare, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi, Kim Kitsuragi/Jean Vicquemare, Kim/Harry/Jean basically, Klaasje Amandou/Ruby
Series: Rugby AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677589
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	For the Glory (And Love)

**Author's Note:**

> All art is by Gaith (@Hardie_boi on Twitter) please support him as he has supported me and my work.
> 
> I've put in so much love and work into this but most importantly I had fun.
> 
> I would like to dedicate this to the Disco Elysium fanbase.

There are lights above your head as you walk down the hallway, reflecting highlights on your long golden hair. In the background you can hear the murmuring of someone who you assume is your new team manager... or something. You don't really care. At the end of the hallway there's a room, you enter.

"Just try not to start fights with them. Our last prop had a lot of problems with the number 8" 

That would be hard for you to avoid. You don't like taking shit from anyone. 

Suddenly all eyes were on you. In the locker filled room, where around 13-14 other burly men sat on benches or were frozen mid-way taking things or putting things in their lockers... all... erm...26? 28?--- Look, math isn't really your strongest subject. You never went to school, do you really expect me to be able to tell you how many pair of eyes are on you right now? Just know it's a lot. 

You don't feel pressured though. 

"So," the short man who walked you here said, clapping his hands together. "Rhinos, this is our new number 3. The prop. Please try not to kill each other.” There was silence in the room, as if time was frozen. The little man next to you must have felt like it was awkward because he took a step back. “Well, I’ll let you get familiar with your team. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

And just like that, he was out of the room, and time ticked again, everyone went back to doing whatever they were doing.

Well, the first order of business is finding your locker, right? But this is life and nothing is easy. You can ask a teammate where your locker is, or you can do the macho thing and find it yourself. That should be easy, just find the one unoccupied.

You take a few steps further into the room, blue eyes fixed on metal rather than people, that was until all your eyes could see was orange. You recognize the color as the same orange you’re wearing, hugging your body… and the man in front of you. Are you staring at his chest or the Flaming Rhinos logo? You have one on your shirt too.

“Hi,” The man in front of you says, catching your attention. You lift your head, gaze meeting his. He extends his hand. “Titus Hardie. Fly-Half, which kinda makes me the team captain.”

Ah, the number 10. Usually the smart guy. You had major problems with your last fly-half, that being you didn’t like taking orders from him. 

‘Glen, you’re too aggressive on the field.’ He said. Well, la-dee-fucking-da. You’re a prop. Being aggressive is kind of your thing. Who fucking cares if you broke some of the other players's bones? 

By the way, it’s kind of hard to ignore but this fly-half has very… um… interesting shaped eyes. They’re sunken, sharply pointing downwards, hooded by his eyelids, and yet you can see how remarkably hazel they are. Generally, the man looks like what you’d expect from a soldier. His face is square shaped, sharp jaw and cheek bones, short dark hair, shaved from the sides. All in all, very attractive, the type you want to see in your bed, if you were gay of course… which you are. You remember seeing him on some magazines before, though you don’t know for what. You can’t read. A skill that is very handy, if only you had went to school. 

Anyway, you decide to shake his hand, he grins. His already small eyes become smaller, crow’s feet grace the sides of his eyes. There’s a sensation in your chest, you’re not sure what it is, but you think it’s a lot like someone punched through your ribcage. You realize how incredibly warm and rough his hand is, you almost feel tempted to rub your thumb over his knuckle, but it’s inappropriate to be this gay so soon in your relationship. 

Also, the man has introduced himself to you, it’s just common human decency to introduce yourself as well.

“Glen.”

No last name, you kind of detached yourself from it. 

“Well, Glen. Let’s see what you’re made of.” He points to some door which you can only assume leads outside, or maybe it’s just a big room for training, also known as a gym. 

You follow behind him, and in the short walk between where you stood and the door, you take the time to admire the view. Not the view of the room of course, but the view of that ass in those shorts. 

The door opens, it does, in fact, lead outside. A small field that looks like it was made specifically for training. He picks up a ball from the grassy ground and tosses it to you. 

“Score.” He says, and gets in position to block you.

Your time to shine, superstar. Dominate him like you would when you take him to the bedroom. Woof woof, or rhino noises, whatever he’s into.

You kick your leg back, launching yourself forward, he stands strong but not for long. Your body connects with his, your arm, the one not holding the ball, hooks around him; he’s firm, solid as a rock, but it doesn’t stop you, you break through him and push with enough force to send him flying a few steps back and down to the ground. He takes you down with him. 

“Fuck!” You hear him grunt under you. “Think you broke my ribs.”

You can’t help but chuckle menacingly at that, he chuckles too. 

“Not a lot of people can knock me down that easy. You’re gonna be a great prop, Glen.”

You lift yourself to look at him, his hazel eyes melt into your blue ocean, a fancy way of saying he’s looking at you too.

“You free tonight?”

“What?” You ask because no way you scored that easy, right?

“You free tonight?” He asks again. “To celebrate your new position. I know a great place we can go, get you well aquatinted with the team.”

Ah, well. At least you’re always up for beer.

“Sure.”

“Great. Welcome to the Flaming Rhinos, Glen.”

* * *

You two meet again at night and gather with a crowd of rowdy men that this pub seems very familiar with because when you went inside, you could see the bartender roll his eyes. Nice.

The team settle in a table, almost like they own it. Titus gestures with his head for you to follow, you do like a good puppy. He walks you to the counter. “Lawrence!” He greets the other man, arms open. The other man doesn’t share his enthusiasm. 

“Titus Hardie.” He greets back. The man is young, at least a few years younger than you. He must be 28 or something. You can’t help but think he looks familiar. Maybe you’ve been to this bar before? Whatever it is, you think you’ve seen him before, you just can’t put your finger on it. 

Titus leans against the counter, grinning. “Glen, Lawrence, Lawrence, Glen.” He points from you to the smaller, chubbier man, and back. “He’s the bartender. Bartender, this is our new prop."

“First of all, It’s Garte. Second of all, I’m not a bartender. I’m the manager.”

See, this is what happens when you go to school and become successful. You have a shitty job serving drinks to a bunch of loud motherfuckers in a pub that can’t even get your occupation right.

“You know the drill, Gar.”

He nods without looking at the other man and then turns his back to the both of you, probably hoping you’ll just get out of his hair already. But Titus sits down and looks at you, he’s expecting you to take a seat next to him and so you do. 

“So, Glen. By the looks of it, this isn’t your first time playin’?”

“No, was part of other smaller teams before.”

“Heard you’re a real troublemaker.”

Troublemaker? What is this? Kindergarten? Unless he’s into bad boys of course then hell yeah you’re a troublemaker. 

The manager/Bartender sets two bottles of beer in front of you, you crack yours open and Titus follows.

“I get it, people like you, you don’t like bein' pushed around and bein’ told what to do. I’m the same. That's why I became the one givin’ the orders.” He smiles before he takes a sip of his drink. “Would you take orders from me, Glen?”

You can’t help but take this question in a completely different, almost inappropriate way. 

“I don’t know. Why should I?”

“Of course. You shouldn’t have to just because my shirt has a bigger number than yours.” He laughed. “But you can take instructions from a friend, right?”

“I suppose so.” You shrug.

He puts up his beer bottle, “then here’s to our friendship.”

It’s hard to say no when he’s looking at you with that shit eating grin. Your bottles make a clanking noise when you hit them lightly together. Congratulations, you are now friends, as you chug down the beer you feel the cold fluids of friendship run down your throat. It stings like a bitch.

“Your last teammates had a lot of interesting things to say about you, you know?"

You roll your eyes. “Like I’m a troublemaker?”

“Yeah. Also you’re good at putting people in the hospital… among other things” he gestures vaguely.

You think it’s not your fault people are such pussies. 

“See, that’s the difference between a big team and a small team... We ain’t no pussies.”

It’s like he read your mind. 

“But remember, we’re not the enemy. You wanna break bones, you focus on the other team. And remember, as much as you hate it, this is a team game.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You get your second bottle and chug it down.

“Enough about that though, why not tell me somethin’ about yourself instead?”

Well where would you like to start?

“Why don’t you tell me somethin’ about you instead?”

Good strategy. 

“Okay, fair enough. Well, like you, I’m pretty much a troublemaker. I like boxin’, huntin’, and when I’m feelin’ nice, I also like takin’ my boat out and fishin’. Somewhere between all this you can also fit I drink beer and I flex for the camera a lot.”

You both laugh. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner. You’re from Martinaise, right?”

You nod. 

“Thought I knew everyone from Martinaise.”

“Clearly not. But I’ve seen you before… In magazines, I mean.” It was good to add the last part.

He seems proud of that. “Well the Rhinos are the biggest team in Martinaise and I run the show.” He doesn’t mean to sound smug, but you don’t mind him taking credit for his accomplishments. 

You spend the rest of the night chugging down beer with your new buddy. You exchange stories about your life and experiences. It doesn’t take long for you to laugh like a drunken mad man and he joins you, to the manager’s displeasure. If there was such a thing as an instant connection then this was it, which is cheesy to say the least but, hey, those are your thoughts, I’m just a narrator. I don’t write this shit… well… I do… but that’s not the point here.

Anyway, at the end of the night, you feel like you just met with an old friend, someone you’ve known for years, which is unlikely because you can’t maintain a single healthy relationship with another person for more than 5 months. 

“Thanks for the beers, babe.” He tells the manager with a friendly wink who gives him a clearly fake smile in return. He’s glad nothing was broken… tonight. “Send the tab to Jim. He’ll take care of it.” Jim, you assume, is the short man that was with you earlier.

You leave the bar with him and realize you actually have not met any of the other team members but you got some names through conversations you had with Titus. Good luck remembering them tomorrow.

“So, ugh,” Titus rubs the side of his head, as if trying to clear his mind from the depressing fog that is alcohol. Remember kids, drink responsibly. You don’t want to end up a himbo. “Tomorrow, meet me at…” He can’t remember where, and honestly you’re too fucked to try to guess. “You know what, just meet me back at HQ tomorrow and I’ll pick you up from there.”

Or you can just give him your address and have him pick you up from there? But like I said, I’m just a narrator so… do whatever you want. 

So anyway cut to the next day because I said so. I’m basically god!

You wake up with the most god awful hangover, I’m sorry I have to let you suffer through it because you did drink a lot last night. At least you’re past the point where you feel sick from drinking so much which can only mean one thing... Oh no, you’re past the point of no return. You’re…. You’re… an alcoholic!! That’s not good. But I’m not your dad. Your dad was an alcoholic too? Makes sense. 

You hear the faint sound of the radio and it’s like daggers to your brain. You struggle to turn it off. The light outside feels like the sun itself came down from the sky to kick you in the dick. Regardless you get off the bed, wash up, tie your hair, and change your clothes to something casual. But despite that, you still look like shit. Just saying it as a friend. 

You leave the house though and hiss at the sun like a snake. How dare you be out and about at this time, sun? The sun does not care about your pain. 

You meet Titus back at the Rhinos HQ, he’s leaning against the door, head lowered, arms crossed, cap shielding him from the light. Even when he’s hungover, he still looks hot as fuck. Those are your thoughts and mine, by the way. Am I allowed to have personal thoughts as a narrator? Of course I can, I’m god. Remember? 

“Hey champ. Guess you and I are on the same boat. Hope you’re not sea sick.”

“I’m fine.”

He nods and starts walking, you walk by his side. “So, I know this guy, basically the only other dude who will put up with the team.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think you should meet him. He runs the gym where we work out, you might like him. He’s wild. Still thinks we live in the disco era. He knows how to give you one hell of a workout though.”

Disco, huh? You are definitely not dressed for the occasion.

“Also, lunch. You free?”

You nod.

“Great. I’m meeting some old friends, not the type I’d usually want my team to meet but I think you’ll fit in just right with ‘em.”

He seems to like to include you in his friend circle. That’s a good sign!

When you reach the gym, there are no disco lights, no big neon signs, no disco ball. It looks just like a normal decaying gym from the outside. There is a car, however, a Kineema cop car. Sprayed across its blue exterior is a single word. “Faggot”

“Huh,” Titus rests his chin on his hand. “Must be Jean’s.” He shook his head like a displeased father.

You enter the gym, no loud disco music. You have to say, you’re kind of disappointed. This was fake advertisement.

The place is relatively empty aside from a few other people. You see a man wearing funky green sunglasses, his face has a dead squirrel on it, also known as facial hair. His hair is long, almost as long as yours, but very messy, brown in color. He’s wearing yoga pants and you wish you could unsee it. With him are two other men, both in police uniform. Perhaps they’re about to bust the clearly insane looking man for drugs or something, but no. The man bursts out into laughter, and you can see a faint smile on their lips. It’s very faint, almost awkward. 

The first man is broad, at first glance, he doesn’t seem like he’s tough but he’s well equipped in the arm area to knock your… well not your lights out, but a typical wrong doer. He has short dark hair, combed to one side. His facial hair circles under his nose and his mouth, the rest is just stubble. He looks like he could use some sleep, probably years of sleep. You relate. Next to him is a thinner man, if he wasn’t in uniform you would have thought he was a technician or something. Look at his big dorky fucking glasses, haha, what a fucking nerd, am I right? Anyway, he is clearly not from Martinaise, and looks much younger than he probably is. 

The man with the funky sunglasses turns to you and Titus, he grins, and honestly I think somewhere in the world something bad just happened to someone because of it. He shuffles over, yes, you heard that right(or in this case, read), SHUFFLES, and he throws his arms around Titus. The big man doesn’t seem to mind because he hugs him back. He then looks at the officers like an excited puppy. “Kim! This is—“

“I know who he is. I read sport magazines, Harry.”

He didn’t mean to sound dismissive. But he nods towards you and Titus regardless. 

“Glen, this is Harry Du Bois. If you ever want a really good workout that will leave you sore for days, he’s your man.”

“I’m powered by disco, baby! The energy never stops!”

“Okay Harry,” The man who is yet to be introduced, who you can only assume is Jean, looks embarrassed on Harry’s behalf. “That’s enough of that.” Honestly they just sound like they can’t contain the disco. Too bad for them. Party poopers.

“Oh yeah! Titus, this is Kimothy Kitsuragi. He’s a juvie cop.”

Kim reaches out to shake your hands. “It’s just Kim.”

If Kim didn’t sound so uptight, you two might get along to being Just Glen and Just Kim. 

“And I’m Jean, also a cop.” He also shakes your hand. 

“Hope Harry isn’t in trouble with the law, officers.”

“No. We just came by to check on him after he spent the night drinking.”

Sounds familiar.

“A man after my own heart.” Titus and Harry chuckled. Jean and Kim did not find it funny. 

“So are you here for a strength test, Glen? Because I can take you on.”

He can’t. 

“No, I’m just—“

“What are you, chicken?” He starts doing a chicken dance. Now I’m embarrassed for him too. Anyway, it was good at pissing you off.

“Fine, alright. I’ll take your fuckin' dumb strength test."

“I’ll let you know that I actually taught Titus a lot of what he knows.”

Titus doesn’t respond but he gives you a sympathetic look that says, ‘just play along.’

“So let’s see what you got!”

Famous last words. 

He walks off, doing a little shimmy shimmy as he does, you look back at Titus and Harry’s friends as you walk behind him. ‘Go easy on him.’ Titus mouths quietly. Jean has his head buried in his hands, and Kim… Kim doesn’t show it but he’s interested to see how this goes.

It’s safe to say you knocked him the fuck down like one, two, boom. Lights out.

“I said go easy on him, man.”

“I barely hit him!”

Jean and Kim lean over Harry, he looks up at them. “You fucking dumbass.” Jean crosses his arms over his chest.

“That was fucking awesome!” Harry shot up. “Nice fists.”

“Thanks.”

He looks at Jean. “Maybe he should be a cop.”

You would make a horrible cop.

“I’m getting hungry. Wanna grab lunch later?” Harry asks. 

Titus laughs, his hearty laughter echoing in the gym, it makes your chest fill up with a drug like fluid, it's almost suffocating. “We were going to the usual place for lunch anyway."

“Nice, it’s a double date then!”

Yes, he did just say it’s a date and no one overreacted so don’t overreact, especially since the word “date” just came out of a maniac’s lips, no one is taking it seriously probably.

I can see it in your mind right now “No one is going out with anyone!” Or some other line of dialog to display that you are totally not gay, when you are. Come on, man. Clearly no one is questioning it here so maybe shut the fuck up for once?

You decide not to say anything. Good choice.

“By the way, Jean, some kids fucked up your car outside.”

“That would be my car, mister Hardie.” Kim corrected. 

“Titus. Mister Hardie makes me sound old as fuck.”

Kim nods, seeming as though he was taking a mental note of that. A part of you is almost sure that Kim Kitsuragi is not a real human being, but actually he’s just some advanced AI that is learning how to behave like a human. The next step in modern technology, and also the RCM’s efforts to keep Revachol safe, or bring forth its end. Who knows.”I will take care of it. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It sounds a bit awkward, but it quickly fades into the air. Harry jumps to his feet, walks over to the bigger man, and slams his hand on his back, causing a clapping sound to boom in the room. “Jog on the treadmills? Or weight lifting contest?”

“I think you had enough competitions for today, Harry.” Jean is genuinely concerned.

Kim fixes his glasses before he put both hands behind his back… robotically. “I agree. Take it easy.”

“Gotta go with your copper buddies on this one.” Titus chimes in.

“Alright, a jog it is then.”

And they were off. 

This was like an awkward party you go to with your friend and then they ditch you in the middle of it and leave you in a room full of strangers. Well, you can now ask Kim if he’s a robot. Of course he’s going to say no because that’s what he wants you to believe! Don’t be fooled, Blondie. 

“Your car, guess they do that to you often?”

He nods. “They all say the same things, very unimaginative.”

He’s already used to it, not just as a cop, but generally. You can understand a thing or two about being called names, Goldie locks.

“And you?” You turn to Jean.

“Just comes with the job, I guess.”

You’ve been called that word numerous times, all your life. It’s definitely the hair. Or maybe it’s just obvious. You hate it.

“Shit, man. Sucks to be a cop.”

Jean snorts. “Must be great to be a sport star though.”

It’s not. You love the flashing lights and cameras, and the crowds cheering, you love to be a winner. Of course you do. But…

“It’s not so great all the time,” Kim interrupts your thoughts. The robot! He can read minds! “All these tough men that feel the need to be in the spotlight, even if it means stepping on others. Sports is a very toxic environment. You’re in a constant race. If we are pigs, you are race horse… constantly running… marketed like items. You are not people to your industry. You bring them money, that’s all.”

There was a pause, the silence was heavy. You have nothing to say because as fun as sports can be, you know that this advanced AI is right.

“Jesus Christ, Kim.”

“Athletes have a high rate of depression, they’re expected to be perfect, physically, as well as commercially. Of course also having their performance judged by millions of viewers every game."

“Okay, Kim. I think I get it.”

“Not that you asked,” Kim adjusts his jacket. “But if you did, I would say it’s reliable to have good friends around. They’ll keep you grounded.”

You almost feel like smiling, but you just nod instead. You think Titus Hardie could be a good friend, after all, he’s very eager to make you a part of his life.

Being with these two strangers suddenly doesn’t feel so bad.

Jean takes out a pack of cigarettes. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke. Feel free to join.”

You take the invitation, so does Kim. Jean offers his pack to you, after taking a cigarette, he does the same with Kim. The three of you lean against Kim’s car, smoke from your cigarettes all unite and fade into the air above you. There s a silent understanding between you.

It’s almost peaceful.

In the afternoon, all five of you walk to the diner, chitchatting about whatever comes to mind, sometimes causing a ruckus with vocal opinions, with Jean and Kim trying to keep things relatively stable. Turns out Harry has a lot to say about sports, even Kim seems to understand more than he likes to show. Turns out this super advanced AI of a man is into cars. 

When you enter the diner, you see a familiar face behind the counter. It’s the bartender/manager. 

“Lawrence.” Harry and Titus greet.

“Garte.” Kim and Jean say.

You just nod towards him. 

“Ah, great. Everyone is here. That’s just fucking-fantastic! Really!” He’s being sarcastic.

Titus leaned against the counter, elbow resting against it, other hand on his hip. “Nice to see you too.” He grinned. Garte only responded with a mocking, ‘mhm.’

Lawrence Garte can come off as an asshole but he actually appreciates the maddening company. It makes his job a bit more interesting.

“Hey cafeteria manager! How about another round for me and my girl here?”

You turn your head to the source of the sound, the reason it caught you so off guard is because… it was a woman. Bright orange hair, giant headphones resting around her neck, freckles dotting her face, she looked very butch, like she could probably take you on in an arm wrestling competition. Next to her sat an elegant blonde woman, her features soft and yet sharp. Like she could end the world with her gaze. Her shoulders seemed to be missing something…

Oh, yes.

A pet snake. 

Titus opens his arms. “Well ain’t this a surprise.”

“Titus fucking Hardie. Aren’t you supposed to be wiping the floor with some poor chump on the rugby field?” The ginger says.

He shakes his head. “Nah. Not tonight anyway.” He walks towards the two women, taking the blonde’s hand before leaning down to give it a kiss. “Klaasje, lookin’ foxy as usual.” He looks back at you, gesturing with his head for you to come over. He straights up, fixing his jacket. “Glen, this is Ruby, and this is Ruby’s girl Klaasje, also my ex.”

He didn’t say it like it was an awkward thing. No, just casually chatting with your ex and her girlfriend, no worries. 

“Seems like Titus Hardie has a thing for blondes.” She says with a chuckle, hand resting on the side of her face as she studies you. 

“Come on, Klaas. Don’t embarrass me in front of my new friend.” He says it jokingly.

“Just observing, dear.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember you bringing your other boys here,” Ruby agrees. “What's up with that?”

“What? I bring my friends here all the time!” He looks back. “Back me up on that, Lawrence.”

“Sadly, I must admit, he does. Speaking of which, your friends are waiting for you right now.” He points at one of the table where around five other dudes sat, munching on food, downing drinks like theres no tomorrow. They seem to be busy chatting, too busy to notice Hardie or his company.

“Our crew don’t count!”Ruby protests, but Titus just laughs and wraps an arm around you and pulls you towards the table. 

“Have fun, ladies.” He waves to the girls before joining his other men.

“What took you so long?” One of them says, rat faced, even the way he munches on his food is like that of a street rat.

“Catchin’ up with the ladies.”

Then they turn to you, the outcast, the one strange face they’ve never seen before. 

Titus takes a deep breath and points at the rat faced man. “Dennis, boxer. Light on his feet, I don’t recommend turning your back to him. Next to him, Theo, our wise old man that keeps us from gettin’ into deep shit. A damn good friend and a great story teller. Eugene, musician. He doesn’t talk much. You can trust him with all your secrets. Alain, will kill anyone for you. I mean it. He’s an ex-con.”

“Cleaned up my act though,” Alain interrupts. His voice is raspy and hoarse from heavy smoking, you relate. “I help people stay safe now.”

Titus nods. “You’re doin’ a damn good job too,” The crew agrees and then Titus moves on to the next person. “And Angus. Computer freak. We just call him Angie. And you met Ruby, she’s also part of this crew.”

Wonder what this ‘crew’ is about.

He points at you then the crew. “And crew, this is Glen. New prop for my team. He’s got one hell of a punch too. Hope you all get used to seeing him. Think I’d like to have him around for a very long time.”

You would like to be around him for a very long time too.

You sit and chat for a while, not long after you’re joined by Ruby and Klaasje, and then Kim, Harry, and Jean. You huddle up, exchanging stories, enjoying cold drinks, hot food, and you think… shit… Titus Hardie does basically know everyone in Martinaise. 

“And one time, we were helping Harry with gettin’ a kitten down from a tree,”

“It falls on my face and almost scratches my eyes out! Never trusted another cat again!”

The place fills with laughter. 

You can get used to this.

“Klaasje,” Harry turns to the blonde. “That's a nice ring you’ve got.”

On her hands, gracing her finger, is a golden ring with a single small diamond. 

“Thank you. Ruby got it for me.”

“Is it your anniversary yet?”

She pretends to think for a moment. Kim takes out a small blue notebook and flips through the pages. “When did I dump you, Titus?”

He shrugs. “Why should I know? 8 months ago or somethin.”

He pretends not to know, says it casually. But he does remember. She’s not saying it to bother him, he’s not upset by it. In their own way, this is just how their relationship goes. 

“Yes, a ring matching this description was reported lost last week.”

“Such a shame.” Klaasje says nonchalantly.

“Only dumb folks lose a ring like that.” Ruby chimes in. 

Kim does not seem impressed with their act and puts his hand out. Klaasje sighs and takes off the ring, giving it to Kim. “Thank you for your cooperation, ladies.”

“Didn’t I catch you for stealing a bracelet before that? And a pair of earrings before that?” Jean leaned forward, arm on the busy table.

“Us? Nah.”

You have a question to ask. You should ask it. 

“Ain’t the homosexual underground supposed to be,” You shrug. “Don’t know… underground?”

Everyone was suddenly looking at you. 

“Why? You got a problem with it not being underground?” The ginger narrows her eyes at you. 

The right answer is no, actually, you are part of that underground… but as you remember I’m just a narrator. Feel free to answer however you like. 

“No.”

And?

…

Okay you’re not ready to come out to these folks you just met, that's cool. It’s understandable. 

“Say,” Ruby stretches her neck, taking a closer look at you. “Haven’t I seen you in the underground before?”

Or you can just be outed. That’s cool too.

“Must be some other fella.” She takes back her words, probably because she noticed how terrible of a situation this must be for you.

“I have two hands!” Harry says suddenly, you’re grateful because the completely obvious statement takes away the attention from you and puts it all on Harry. “One to hold Kim’s and one to hold Jean’s.” And he does exactly that. Jean looks away, red faced. Kim pretends not to react. Perhaps he’s incapable of blushing, but if he could, he would. Just another sign that he’s an AI! 

“Oh, Kim! We didn’t know you’re Harry’s boyfriend,” Titus waves his hand in no specific direction. “Well his other boyfriend. Congratulations!”

Kim nods. 

“We’ll drink to that!” Alain says, the table chants. 

Titus Hardie stands, hands slamming against the table. “Lawrence, another round for the table!”

When the man arrives with the drinks, Titus grabs him before he leaves.

“No one but us here, grab a chair. Join us."

The table agrees. Garte sighs. “But if one customer comes in, I’m leaving.” He pulls up a chair and sits with the already rowdy crowd.

Your little party drags on till night, Kim and Jean excusing themselves earlier on to return to their police work, Harry leaving after, then Ruby and Klaasje, and finally the crew of five, letting Garte return to his duties. Titus decides to walk you home, it’s not the dead of night after all and you’re not hammered out of your minds.

“Hope you had fun today.”

“Yeah. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you knew all of Martinaise.”

He grins. “I know the good people of Martinaise. You could rely on any of those guys and they’ll have your back.”

It makes you wonder. “Why did you introduce me to ‘em?”

“Don’t know. Guess I think you’re a mighty fine person.”

You smirk, ears turning red under your hair. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a guess.”

“Your guess could be wrong.”

“Could be, could be right.”

“Could be.”

“Guess only time will tell.” 

If you were never a good person, you’d like to be now. 

“Oh, and before I forget, tomorrow, training. Time to show the team what you really got.”

You nod. You know you will. You will put your all into every practice, every match. 

“What do you hope to get out of this career?”

Fame, money? Isn’t that what everyone wants. “Break a record for most tackles. You?”

“Be someone worth rememberin’. Lead the team to many victories. Stuff like that.”

You both smile, these sound like childish dreams but they are yours to keep and yours to achieve. 

So you show up to practice, and the practice after, and after, for years to come. You never miss a match. 

Ten years after the day you met Titus Hardie, and you still meet every day. His world becomes yours, and yours become his. At that point, they were one of the same. 

On your shelf now sets a bunch of trophies, you see yourself on the cover of magazines that you of course can’t read (but that's fine because Angie has been more than nice enough to read them for you, Himbo.) It’s safe to say they don’t always have the best things to say about you. You did get some cool nicknames though, like ‘the one man stampede,’ that’s cool, right?

They’ll have more to say soon enough, but you don’t care. Right now you’re close to the sky, you could almost reach out and touch it. Your team is chanting something below you. You lift your hands and show off the trophy to the sky, the bright sun reflects off of it. In the crowd of fans, you can hear Harrier Du Bois hollering and yelling at the top of his lungs. Next to him is Kim, with a calm expression, and on the other side is Jean, sunken into his chair, tugging at Harry’s shirt to sit him down. 

When the team puts you down, you fall into the embrace of your best friend. You’re overcome with joy and feel an incredible urge to fuck it all up and kiss him. Luckily you’re able to contain yourself.

The teams retreat to the locker rooms. You shower, grab your shit, and head off. There would be celebrating today with Titus and the boys. Titus meets you outside, he smiles at you and the urge to kiss him comes back stronger than ever. 

I don’t know, man. I think you should go for it. Ten years together? You might as well be married.

Oh… oh you’re pushing him against the wall and… okay there you go. You’re kissing. Do you want me to describe it for you? Okay. His lips are soft, you didn’t expect that. It’s better than everything you’ve ever imagined. You can feel his lips curl into a smile, it only makes you kiss him harder, he has to stifle a laugh, and so do you. 

You keep your arms wrapped around him, even after your lips part. After filling your lungs with air once again, you press your foreheads together.

“So… triple dates with Kim, Harry, Jean, and the girls?”

“Sounds fuckin’ great.”

He gives you a quick peck on the lips.

“Guess you’re the real trophy I’m takin’ home tonight.” As soon as the words leave your lips, I, the narrator and god, cringed. But go off I guess. I just can’t believe you made me write that.

You do a lot of celebrating, as one with your habits does. You get wasted, and in the midst of partying, Titus Hardie stands up, one arm hooked around you as he announces to the whole table that basically you're gonna bang. 

"I told you, he has a thing for blondes." Klaasje tells them. 

Your friends laugh, you laugh. There can't be a better day to be alive.

There were many dates to follow. Like the triple date to the park where you managed to get your rugby ball stuck in about every tree, or the beach, when you had to rescue Harry who was determined to find the Loch Ness monster. 

At times you would rather chill at home; the two of you tangled in each other's arms, lazily kissing on the couch... which sometimes led to other things but I close my eyes and look away when that happens, promise. 

You see yourself being next to him for the rest of your life. 

And maybe this is the part where I say you all live happily ever after, but this is life, remember? We don't have happily ever afters. We have world problems. 

Garte's establishments are your haven. There, you can be free. Outside? Revachol is merciless. You can't forget.

No matter how much you'd like to kiss Titus after every match, show him off to everyone, be the power couple the sports industry needs...you know you can't. With Revachol's views of the underground and middleground, it's far too risky. (Which makes dates more awkward and less fun sometimes)

Maybe you should fight? Isn't that what you do best? You fight like hell for what you want, for what's right. You have so many people on your side, you could start a movement! Maybe that could be our next story... Whenever you're ready to tell it, you know I will be here.

I guess we'll see what time has in store for us. Till then, party on you crazy motherfucker.


End file.
